


A Safe Bet

by amscray_punk



Series: Yes, Chef [5]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Funny, Idiots, M/M, This is pretty stupid, and very nearly crack, anyway, but like the rest of this AU it's fun, don't eat here, i guess?, idiots run this restaurant, literally don't know what to tag this, sprace come clean about their relationship to jack, the food is good tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27686258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amscray_punk/pseuds/amscray_punk
Summary: Race and Spot are Officially dating, so now it's time to tell management.And management means Jack Kelly.*This is, genuinely, so stupid but it's something I've thought about since writing Home Sweet Home, so, here.**Rating for language and references to sexual activity. As usual.
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Series: Yes, Chef [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1953946
Comments: 17
Kudos: 48





	A Safe Bet

**Author's Note:**

> Stared at this empty box for several minutes before realizing that I just... I got nothin'. No excuse for this, it's just dumb and they're all idiots and I love them very much. Enjoy

Race took a deep, calming breath. _Just knock. Just do it. It's gonna be fine._ Jacobi had taken the news well, if a bit too enthusiastically. Now it was time to tell Jack, which _shouldn't_ be a problem. Shouldn't. 

But still.

Spot nudged him lightly in the ribs, clearing his throat softly. Race squirmed, swatting at him with a huff.

"Okay, okay," He sighed, lifting his hand and knocking quietly on the office door; almost too quietly, like maybe Jack wouldn't even hear–

"Come in," 

"Shit," Race breathed.

"What's that?" Spot asked, cupping one hand around his ear.

Race didn't answer, twisting the knob and pushing the door open. Jack was leaning back in his–their–office chair, scrolling absently on his phone. When Spot closed the door behind him, Jack's eyes snapped up, one eyebrow quirking in curiosity. 

"What's up?" He asked, that curiosity sounding a little more like unease at the sight of the two of them together. "Someone call off?" 

"No," Race answered quickly, shaking his head. "No, nothing like that." When he didn't continue, Jack set his phone down, looking between them with slightly narrowed eyes.

"What is it, then?"

Race wasn't sure why this was so hard. Wasn't this what he'd wanted? But it was a little different, telling Jacobi, who was more like a supportive uncle than a boss, really; he'd been thrilled when Spot called to tell him. But Jack was one of Race’s closest friends, and not just because they worked together. In fact, it had been Jack who'd gotten Racer the job at Jacobi’s, after they'd worked together at another restaurant in their late teens. He had no reason to be so nervous, and yet…

"We just have some, ah, news," Spot said, and Race wasn't entirely sure he didn't hear a mischievous edge to Spot’s tone; and he _was_ entirely sure he could feel Spot’s teasing gaze on him, now. This had been the deal, after all: Spot told Jacobi, and now it was Race’s turn. 

"News, eh? Well, out with it, Racer." 

"Fuck," Race said under his breath, adding quickly, "We just... wanted to... tellyouthatwe'redating." He rushed through the words, already feeling the heat creeping up his neck and into his cheeks.

Jack stared at him for a moment, expression entirely unchanged, completely empty. Then he leaned forward, braced his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers together, chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

"I'm sorry," He said, too calmly. Race bit his lip, not daring to look over at Spot. "You're _what_?"

Race let out an exaggerated sigh, dropping his head back. "You heard me, Jack." 

"I know I know I just, goddamnit," Jack trailed off into incoherent grumbles, crossing his arms petulantly and looking down at his desk for a long, tense moment before he sighed. "It's just that… I owe Al… some money, now."

"Excuse me?" Race sputtered. "You made _bets_ on my love life?!" 

"Oh, like you've never done that–"

"Jack!"

"Wait wait," Spot interrupted, holding up a hand to quiet Racer. He looked like he was fighting a smirk. "What was the bet?"

Jack pursed his lips, suddenly extremely interested in the job application on his desk. 

"Kelly," Spot pressed, arching an eyebrow. Jack groaned.

"Damn it," He sighed, eyes rolling toward the ceiling. "I said you were just fuck buddies, but Al was convinced you were _together_ , together." He groaned again, running his hands over his face. "Fuck, I thought it was a safe bet. Can't believe he was right." 

"Hang on," Race said, frowning. "You both _knew_ we were sleeping together?" 

Jack scoffed, peeking through his fingers to shoot Race an incredulous look. "Ya kiddin' me, Racer?" 

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" 

"We didn't _know_ know," Jack explained, looking at least a little sheepish. "We just suspected."

"Just, just gimme… gimme one second," Race's eyes were closed now as he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to process. "Why did Al think we were dating?"

"Well, he was right, wasn't he?" Jack asked, frowning. Race huffed.

"Well, yes, but only as of… pretty recently," He grumbled, glancing at Spot out the corner of his eye. Yup, that smug, satisfied smirk was right in place. "What did he say, exactly?" 

Jack lifted a shoulder in a dismissive shrug. "He said Spot was too soft on you for you to just be fuck buddies." 

"He said _what_ –" Spot's voice dropped about half an octave and only Race’s hand on his bicep kept him from moving rather aggressively toward Jack. It was Race who was fighting back a grin now, and he coughed lightly to cover it up.

"Meaning?" He asked, pursing his lips so as not to openly enjoy the waves of indignation rolling off of Spot. 

Jack hesitated, pointedly looking exclusively at Race. "Just that… he lets you get away with shit he don't let anyone else get away with, s'all."

"Oh, is _that_ all?" Spot scoffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. Race couldn't help but smile, now; Spot was really cute when he was flustered.

"Well, that, and how much free food you give him," Jack added, rather thoughtfully. 

"I'm going to _murder_ –"

"Anyway," Race interrupted, giving Spot’s arm a subtle squeeze. "We just wanted to be upfront about it, since I'm not an hourly employee, anymore. We already told Jacobi." 

"You did? Ah, fuck," Jack groaned, dropping his head into his hands. There was a singular beat of silence.

"Oh my God," Race said, stunned. "Don't tell me–" 

"Jacobi, too?" Spot asked, finishing Race's train of thought. Jack's soft whine was answer enough and Race couldn't hold back the high-pitched giggles of disbelief. 

"No wonder he was so excited," He managed through his laughter, dropping into the chair next to the desk. 

"Goddamnit, Kelly," Spot grumbled, looking distinctly un-smug, now. Race smirked, blowing Spot a kiss when he dared glance over at him. 

"Well," Jack sighed, looking up and raking a hand through his hair. "It's fine with me, obviously. But we should keep this between management for a while, so no one gets the wrong idea about your promotion."

"Our thoughts exactly," Race said, his voice a little weak as he stood again, eager to put this conversation behind him. "But we wanted to make sure you knew, for transparency, and all."

"Right, 'course," Jack agreed, looking thoughtful. Race narrowed his eyes. 

"You just don't wanna tell Albert that you lost." 

"What?" Jack sputtered, sounding entirely guilty of exactly that. "Ah, c'mon, I–hey, wait, you guys haven't been fuckin' in the restaurant, have you? 'Cause that's another twenty bucks–"

"Alright, that's enough public discussion of my private life for today," Spot interrupted, turning to reach for the door. "Or even a week. A month, maybe." He looked over his shoulder at Jack. "I won't tell Al, yet, but Jacobi’s a done deal, sorry." 

"Wait," Race said suddenly, grabbing Spot’s wrist as he was halfway out the door. Spot raised an eyebrow at him. "Jackie, why did you think we _weren't_ dating?" 

"Oh, ah," Jack hesitated, bringing one hand to rest on the back of his neck. "Well–"

"Spit it out, Kelly." Spot said, almost wearily. 

"I just figured ya wouldn't have the patience for Racer’s bullshit in a real relationship," Jack finally admitted, looking, to his credit, at least a little ashamed to say it. Race let out an indignant gasp as Spot huffed in amusement. Race opened his mouth to argue when Jack added with a shrug, "The sex must be damn good."

"Oh my God," Spot jerked his wrist out of Race’s grasp and left without a backward look. Race snorted, covering his mouth with his hand to hold back the giggles that threatened to escape again. He started to follow, even half closing the door behind him before he stopped, turned, and poked his head back in.

"Jackie,"

"Yeah?" 

"The sex is _so_ good, like, you don't even fuckin' _know_ –"

"Get out."

"Yeah, okay."


End file.
